


Magnus vel Venator?

by hikari100



Series: Ghostly Revelations [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Thir13en Ghosts (2001)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Animal Traits, Child Abuse, Crossover, Demonic Possession, Dumbledore Bashing, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Handcuffs, Hermione Granger Bashing, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Mind Control, Ministry of Magic bashing, Molly Weasley Bashing, Order of the Phoenix Bashing, Psychic Abilities, Ron Weasley Bashing, character torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-21 09:38:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1546175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikari100/pseuds/hikari100
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Great War had ended, Harry discovers that he has an uncle named Cyrus Kriticos. He then decides to leave the magical world behind so that he could heal, and choses to live with Cyrus. After meeting the man, Harry realizes that he is a natural medium. Harry learns of his uncle's plan on opening 'The Eye of Hell', and along the way, falls in love with Ryan Kuhn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Formulating a Puppet

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story challenge that I took up over on fanfiction.net; and the one who had issued the challenge is Lady Ryou. This is extremely dark and may upset some people.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This here will be pretty dark; i.e. the torturing and breaking of a character. Remember, if you don't like it, then you know the routine.

Hot.  
Why was it so bloody hot?

A small boy groaned softly, tossing and turning as if restless; his eyes closed from sleep, his breathing somewhat harsh. His dark hair was matted to his pale, thin face and even his oversized nightclothes were saturated with sweat. Another groan, but this one sounded a bit more pained. Slowly, hazy green eyes opened, but a hand reached up to shield the eyes from the sudden glare of red light. If anything, the temperatures increased as he woke up.

Wait...what?

He sat up in bed, hazy eyes wide. Unfortunately, he was still between the dream and reality. Despite his hazy vision, the boy watched as his room was slowly engulfed by a raging fire. As the flames rose even higher, a figure could be seen from within.

E-eh?

The figure; clearly a male, was hunched over like an animal. He was dressed in an old uniform of some kind; hospital maybe? However, his head was locked away in a cage; long gray hair swaying as he cackled loudly. Without warning, the man turned to the boy, revealing milky eyes. 

Uh-oh.

The man cackled and was about to reach for the boy, when he blinked; hard. Almost instantly, his eyes cleared, while at the same time, the temperatures returned to normal. Blinking, he looked around the room, as if dazed.

Everything was...normal.

He shook his head, confused if not a little worried. Had he been dreaming? That fire...he shuddered, a faint trickle of fear seeping through. It felt so real. Still shaken, he reached over to the battered nightstand, opened a draw, and pulled out a small black book and a single pen. He flipped it open to a clean page, and started to write. As he wrote, a sudden noise from downstairs caught his attention. He looked up sharply, wondering if for a moment, if it was one of his relatives. Realizing that his thoughts were absurd, he returned to his writing.

Big mistake.

Before he could even react, a shaft of red light struck him. As he fell back, his blurry vision caught sight of people in black hooded robes.

[I'm screwed.]

-.-.-.-

Hnn...

A soft groan escaped thin lips,, the owner stirring a bit from where they laid. The owner, the small boy from earlier, grunted as he struggled to awaken. With another groan, the boy pushed himself up; rubbing his tender head.

Ouch.  
[What happened?]

Still rubbing his head, the boy looked around carefully; taking in his surroundings with sharp eyes. Well, one thing was for certain, he definitely wasn't with his relatives anymore. Instead, he found himself in a small room completely made from stone. Turning his head slightly, he saw that one wall was nothing more than iron bars. A cell, a fucking cell. 

{How cliché can you get?}

Sighing, he leaned against the wall; closing his eyes. As his eyes closed, he wondered what would happen to him. Just then, a soft noise caught his attention. Snapping up, his green eyes narrowed slightly as he tilted his head; straining his ears a bit.

Where...ah-ha!  
...footsteps?

-.-.-.-

[Why me?]

He had been grabbed roughly from the cell by two burly men, and had been dragged down a seemingly endless hallway, before being forced into a large room. Soft chattering greeted him as he was thrown to the ground, earning a few snickers from the room's occupants.

"Harry Potter."

Almost instantly, the room fell into an ominous silence as said person looked up. Harry's green eyes carefully scanned the room, noting the numerous people in black hooded robes and skull masks; before his eyes landed on the only person who wasn't masked. The man appeared to be in his mid to late twenties, tall with a thin frame, wavy jet black hair and pale skin. He was handsome, nonetheless, but his eyes gave away to his true self. They shone a dark crimson with slitted pupils.

Tom Riddle.  
A.k.a. Lord Voldemort.

[Shit.]

As Harry scanned the room, he failed to see the weapon being aimed at him. However, he did feel a burning heat going across his left arm; the heat was followed by a warm liquid dripping down. Harry glanced down to see an ugly gash, just above his left elbow, going down at an angle. Surprisingly enough, Harry broke out into a stream of colorful words which held a mixture of vicious hisses and guttural growls. "Kid's got quite the mouth on him," Someone muttered as several agreed with the statement. "Blow me," Harry snapped. "Fucker could've just asked," he continued with a grumble as someone collected his blood. Some chuckled, but then something heavy slammed against his head; sending him crashing to the floor.

[Again, why me?!]

-.-.-.-

Name: Harrison James Potter  
Age: Fourteen  
Hair: Black  
Eyes:Green

-Family-  
Charleus William Potter: Paternal Grandfather (D)  
Dorea Moira Black: Paternal Grandmother (D)  
Cyrus Jonathon Kriticos: Paternal Uncle (S)  
James Charleus Potter: Father (D)  
Lillian Rose Evans: Mother (D)  
Petunia Jane Evans: Maternal Aunt (S)  
Vernon Aaron Dursley: Maternal Uncle (M)  
Dudley Jackson Dursley: Maternal Cousin (S)  
Arthur Frederick Kriticos: Cousin (M)  
Katherine Jean Kriticos: Cousin (M)  
Robert James Kriticos: Cousin (M)

-Injuries-  
Mild Concussion: Five, Seven, Ten, Thirteen  
Broken Arm (R): Six  
Bruised Ribs: Six, Eight, Nine, Eleven, Twelve  
Fractured Ribs: Seven, Nine, Ten  
Internal Bruising: Five, Six, Seven, Nine, Ten, Twelve, Thirteen

-Spells, Potions and Blocks-  
Compulsion: Obedience and Loyalty  
(Obey what is being told and to never question authority)  
(Keyed to: Vernon Dursley and Albus Dumbledore)

Obliviate: Five, Seven, Nine, Eleven, Twelve  
(Caster: Albus Dumbledore and Gilderoy Lockheart)

Loyalty Potion  
(Keyed to: Albus Dumbledore and the Weasley's)

Love Potion  
(Keyed to: Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley)

Repulsion Potion  
(Keyed to: Severus Snape, the Dark Arts in general, Slytherin's)

Core Block: 75%  
Memory Block: 80%  
Soul Bond Block: 100%

-Blood Lines-  
Mediumship: 100% Blocked  
(The ability to see and communicate with the dead)  
Telepathy: 100% Blocked  
(The ability to communicate with the mind)  
Pyrokinesis: 100% Blocked  
(Can generate, control or manipulate any heat source)  
Shadow Fae: 100% Blocked  
Kitsune: 100% Blocked

-Contracts and Bonds-  
Marriage Contract: Ginny Weasley  
Soul Bond: Ryan Khun

-.-.-.-

[Cursed...I have to be.]

Harry was frowning as he shifted about, eyes narrowed as he lost himself in thought. Instead of the cell that he had first woke up in, Harry found himself in an all new room. The room was a bit small, but definitely bigger than the room that he had at his relatives. Unfortunately, for him that is, the entire room was completely white. Everything from the ceiling to the floors, even the walls shone the same soft white. There was no furniture, except for a pile of thin blankets that laid nearby. Surprisingly enough, not to mention embarrassing, his oversized nightclothes had been replaced with newer and cleaner clothes. He now had on a simple white shirt and pants, although he was barefoot.

And the only other thing that was left...?

Harry glared at the floor, zeroing in on his left ankle. Glittering proudly against his pale skin, was a series of golden runes. There were even similar markings in the center of the room. Harry wasn't sure, but something told him that the runes were some kind of leash. And he had a bad feeling about the central runes.

Sigh.

-.-.-.-

Hot.

"Why is it so fucking hot?" Harry whined, panting a bit. Since his capture, he had been drifting through consciousness. Sometimes he was lucid enough to be aware, but other times he was so out of it that it wasn't even funny. Now that he was lucid, Harry wondered if he had been drugged with something. And seeing how his blood felt like it was on fire, they had definitely given him something. Unfortunately, Harry had no clue as to what it was.

Urk!

His stomach gave a sudden lurch, and bile started to rise up. Harry turned a sickly green, one hand over his mouth. His stomach gave another lurch, and Harry knew that he had lost the battle when he felt a thick, warm liquid bubbling in his throat. Without warning, Harry turned away, partially bent over. His body shook as he coughed and gagged heavily (a wet, bubbly sound), as a hot liquid dripped from his lips. After what felt like forever (it was only about five minutes), when the violent coughing ceased. Grunting, Harry straightened himself before reaching up to wipe his mouth. But when he lowered his hand, Harry found that his fingers were stained with a red substance; and he could smell a strong, metallic odor.

Blood.

Looking toward the floor, Harry felt ill at the sight. There, laying against the white floor, was a thick, dark red puddle. And judging by how large it was, Harry knew that he had lost a dangerous amount of blood. Harry swallowed thickly, fear trickling in. His unease only increased when out of nowhere, the blood began to vanish; dissipating into nothing.

"What the hell...?"

-.-.-.-

[Don't scream, don't scream...]

Now that his strange fever had broken, Harry found himself being given a first class treatment. He had awoken to find himself in an unknown room, his vision blurred by darkness. Even though he couldn't see, he could tell that he was strapped down to a chair; but no ropes. Was he paralyzed or something? He tilted his head, hearing a shuffling sound. There was some chuckling, but otherwise than that, there was silence. Harry tensed as his right leg was grabbed, before something was placed firmly around the limb. Whatever it was, it went from his shin all the way down to the toes.

PAIN!

The second his leg was released, unimaginable pain consumed him. Harry jerked wildly, seizing violently from the sudden pain. He could vaguely hear someone yelling as a warm liquid started to bubble through his lips. Despite being in such agony, Harry realized that he had bitten through his tongue. Thankfully, he lost the will to remain awake, and slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

-.-.-.-

Pain.

That was something that Harry was beginning to grow used too. Upon regaining consciousness, he found himself back in the white room. Of course, he also found two new additions to his persona. First off, was the device that was attached to his right leg. It looked as if someone had taken several pieces of dark metal and welded it into a crude looking boot. He shifted a bit, before wincing. Someone had apparently fastened the interior with something rather sharp, and yet, there was no pain.

Just a sense of discomfort.

Besides that, a mark had been cleverly carved and burned into his left arm. The mark was that of a human skull with a serpent curling around it and going through the mouth. Harry immediately recognized it as the Dark Mark, the symbol that Voldemort's followers bore.

[Now what?]

-.-.-.-

[I just had to ask!]

Once again, Harry found himself strapped down to a chair, his vision blurred and paralyzed. But this time, he found that his hearing had been greatly diminished. Harry was decidedly uncomfortable, to say the least. Harry tensed, looking around wildly, an icy chill going down his spine. Sensing movement, Harry felt something striking his left hand, causing him to flinch at the sudden sharpness of pain. The process immediately continued, earning a series of hisses and growls.

Fuckity, fuck, fuck!  
It felt like they were stripping his skin!

-.-.-.-

Denailing.

That was what those bastards had done to him. After that lesson, Harry had woke up in the white room; in a considerable amount of pain. Once he was lucid enough, Harry discovered that each of his nails; including the toes, had been brutally torn off before being burned. Not only that, the same metal device that was attached to his right leg, was now fastened to his left.

Doubling the pain.

Swallowing thickly, Harry's eyes dimmed. He was never going to leave this hell hold. He, Harry Potter, was going to die here as a prisoner. "Why?" He whispered, thick tears trickling from his glassy eyes.

"Why?!"

-.-.-.-

Tom sat in his study, overlooking several papers. It had been exactly one year since Harry Potter had come into his care. That bloody boy was perhaps the most stubborn person that he had ever had the displeasure of knowing.

But, not anymore.

The constant sessions and the permanent isolation finally broke the boy's spirit. A malicious grin twisted his handsome face, chuckling softly. Now he could begin the next step; and soon he would have the perfect pet. "Soon Potter," he crooned. "You will be mine."

-.-.-.-

Harry was partially curled up on the blankets, drifting in and out of consciousness. Thanks to those stupid boots, his legs were infected; the smell of sickness unusually strong. Unknown to Harry, he was not alone. Someone or something was hidden within the room. The creature crooned softly as the boy moaned; enticed by the sweet sound. The boy wasn't ready, but he would be someday.

-.-.-.-

Freedom!  
Er-sort of.

The metal boots had had been removed, but the damage had already been done. Several deep puncture wounds marred his pale skin; the limbs were badly distorted. Harry felt ill when he saw that a sickly purplish-black marking had appeared on his feet in patches; the flesh rotting away. Swallowing thickly, Harry closed his eyes; as if trying to remain calm. As his eyes closed, Harry felt something inside of him growing. His whole body began to tingle, steadily growing warmer by the minute. So it was a little worrying when he found himself relaxing, and Harry unconsciously sighed.

Eh...?

Harry's eyes snapped open, the tingling having grown stronger; a rich blue, was bubbling over his feet. And it was growing at an alarming rate. Harry could only watch in terror as it grew at a rapid pace, trapping him in some sort of cocoon. Despite his fear, Harry was relaxing; which should have been impossible! As it reached his throat, Harry gave one last feeble cry before drifting off into darkness.

[Help me...]


	2. Clues 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here you'll receive glimpses of a dark time. Can you figure out who everyone's thoughts are?

Dear Journal,

I've been having these weird dreams lately. Well, I suppose that they're more like nightmares. They are always of people from different eras, enjoying their lives until ending in tragedy. But why...why do I keep having them?

Wait...what was that?

-.-.-.-

I don't believe it.

This battered child cannot be the same one who has defied our Lord for so long. He's so small and weak now. What was Albus thinking when he left the boy with such filth?

-.-.-.-

Boy-Who-Lived: MISSING!

That's right, readers. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived; is indeed missing. A week ago, there had been an attack on a muggle neighborhood. So, imagine my surprise when I discovered that the neighborhood in question, was where Harry Potter lived. Why did Potter live with muggles, and not a magical relative? Surely there must have been a will, why was it not acted out? I don't know about you, my dear readers, but I smell a rat.

Stay tuned for more.

-.-.-.-

I'm dead now, I just know it.

-.-.-.-

Harry Potter.

I simply do not understand that boy. He is different from what I remember. Where had that brash child had gone? All I see is a pitiful, timid soul. I wonder what you're up to, Albus?

-.-.-.-

Our Lord has made his intentions clear.

We are to turn Potter's loyalty to his cause. Perhaps there is something in the boy's history that we can use? I believe there is but one thing that I can say to the brat: Welcome to Hell.

-.-.-.-

Why?

After being captured, I thought that I would have been tortured; if not outright killed. However, neither has happened. So far, I've been staying in an empty, if dark, room. I suppose that I should consider myself lucky.

But, why am I still alive?

-.-.-.-

Interesting.

It would appear that the Potter's aren't as light as they appear. My Lord will be most pleased with this. Now, the question is, how do we bring it out?

-.-.-.-

Lily...  
I'm sorry.

-.-.-.-

I have to admit it.

Despite being such filth, muggles have interesting ideas when it comes to torture methods. Even now, I can hear the boy's sweet screams. Such a delicious sound, his cries...

-.-.-.-

Pain.  
That's all I know now.

-.-.-.-

The Abeo Potion.

This may be the only way to convert the boy. Unfortunately, some of the ingredients are a little hard to come by. And the brewing process takes even longer.

-.-.-.-

[What's this?]  
[A child...how curious...]

-.-.-.-

I think...

I think I understand now why I'm still alive.

Why hasn't anyone come for me?

-.-.-.-

At last!

The Abeo Potion is ready. I'm not even going to ask where our Lord had gotten not only the venom of a Basilisk, but the blood as well. Let's see how Potter reacts to this.

-.-.-.-

I don't believe it.

Potter has taken to the potion rather wonderfully. It is curious that he showed no reaction to the venom.

I wonder why...?

-.-.-.-

Hot...why am I so hot?

God, it feels like I'm on fire.

What's happening to me?

-.-.-.-

It appears that there is a side effect to the potion, but my Lord is pleased with this, nonetheless. After taking note of Potter's progress, I found what looked like an imprint of scales beginning to form.

Most interesting.

-.-.-.-

[Soon child...]  
[You will be mine.]

-.-.-.-

I have been given now instructions.

Potter's memory is to be changed. From what I can assume, a simple memory charm will not suffice. I believe that there is a potion that acts as something similar.

-.-.-.-

Damn you, Potter.

You just had to get sick.

-.-.-.-

How long has it been?

Since being trapped, I have lost all sense of time. I fear that I will never be able to escape from this nightmare. Why hasn't anyone come for me?

-.-.-.-

Ah, shit.

Three of my men just died. My Lord has instructed me to collect several samples, for what reason, I do not know. All I know is that this is a suicide mission. But I must keep this to myself, unless I wish to be killed.

-.-.-.-

[Too bad.]  
[So sad.]

-.-.-.-

Something's not right.

My memory...  
It feels different, somehow.

It must be my imagination.  
...right?

-.-.-.-

I must admit, I'm impressed.

I didn't think that anyone could survive the process. And yet, Potter has once again proven that the impossible was possible.

How did he survive?

-.-.-.-

Harry...  
Where are you?

-.-.-.-

-Insane laughter-

Help me...  
Who...who are you?

-.-.-.-

[It's almost time.]  
[Will you be ready?]

-.-.-.-

Potter is coming along nicely. His transformation and training is nearly complete, and the last of the mind wipe has been finished.

Your move, Albus.


	3. Storming Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's May of 1998, and Voldemort and his Death Eaters swarm Hogwarts. A mutated Harry is revealed to be a follower of the Dark Lord. Is Harry Potter really a traitor? Or is there something more sinister going on?

{WARNING: Contains MOB!Albus, character bashing, heavy torture and extreme death}  
{WARNING: Harry pulls a Dark Alessa/Freddy Kruger on a couple of victims}

.-.-.-.  
May 2, 1998  
Hogwarts, Great Hall  
6:45 pm

Sigh.

Three years, Albus Dumbledore thought. Three years since his plans were ruined. The elderly man, who sat upon his golden throne, was seething with rage. Of course, his perfectly crafted mask of the kindly grandfather prevented his true emotions from showing.

But how?  
How could things have gotten so out of control?

About eighteen years ago, while interviewing Sybil Trelawney for the Divination position; the woman gave a prophecy. A prophecy that predicted the one who would defeat the Dark Lord. And only two children fit the criteria. Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. However, of the two, only Harry showed any sort of power. Once Albus learned of this, he began to make some very important plans.

First off, he was able to convince the Potters to use Peter Pettigrew as their Secret Keeper instead of Sirius Black. The fact that Peter was already a Death Eater did nothing to detour his plans. And the moment that James and Lily Potter died, Albus iniated the next stage of his plans. When the Fidelius Charm broke over Godric’s Hollow, Albus immediately sent the Gamekeeper; Rubeus Hagrid, to fetch the newly orphaned Harry Potter. Leaving the boy with those disgusting muggles would guarantee the perfect pawn. He also made sure that the boy would be obedient to those who were superior to himself.

Like Albus.

The Wizarding World would need the perfect savior, so Albus carefully selected the Weasley family to help guide the boy onto the right path. The Weasley's, while poor, were undyingly loyal to him. Unfortunately, for Albus that is, not all of the Weasley's were loyal. Bill and Charlie, the two oldest, had immediately left the country the moment they had graduated. Bill worked as a curse breaker for Gringotts’ Egyptian branch; and he was a good one. While Charlie, on the other hand, worked as a dragon keeper in Romania.

Percy, who was the third child, broke off from his family after the disastrous Tri-Wizard Tournament. It was a bit sickening to see such an intelligent boy so devoted to the corruption that was the Ministry of Magic. As for Fred and George, the twins, Albus didn't even want to go in that direction. The twins were wild and far too rebellious for his liking. Even their minds reflected their chaotic nature. Thankfully, Ronald; the youngest boy, had proven himself to be a greedy little sloth. And as for Ginerva, the only daughter…? The girl was clearly a scarlet. Did she honestly believe that he wouldn’t know of her conquests?

Honestly!

Anyway…  
What was that?

Ignoring the chatter around him, Albus sat up a bit more straighter. The wards…something about them was off. He started to relax only to freeze as the sound of glass shattering echoed within his mind.

Shit.  
The wards just fell.

Within a matter of minutes, the doors to the Great Hall flew open; and dozens of people in black hooded robes and skull masks, stormed in. as expected, panic ensued to the point of total chaos. Then, Albus' greatest mistake walked in. 

Tom Riddle.

Strangely enough, he resembled a man in his twenties; despite being in his seventies. Walking alongside him was a small figure cloaked entirely in black. Instead of a partial skull mask like the others, they wore a solid black mask that fully covered their face; an electric green film was woven over the eyes.

Who was this person?

As his followers swarmed the Great Hall, Tom slowly made his way toward the staff table. His beloved pet remained by his side; earning a devious smile.

"Hello Albus."

The students stilled, shifting nervously as Death Eaters surrounded them. Unknown to many, certain students were rather calm about this. Perhaps a little too smug, as if they knew something that others did not.

Maybe they did.

"It's been awhile, has it not Albus?" Tom asked with a charming smile. Albus frowned, his blue eyes narrow and cold. "What do you want, Tom?" He asked, a bit sharp. Tom's smile turned shark-like as his red eyes gleamed. 

"Perhaps this might clue you in?"

Curiosity swept through the hall as many wondered what the Dark Lord meant by such cryptic words. They watched as the man turned to his companion, looking rather pleased. The petite figure calmly lowered their hood and carefully removed the mask.

Gasps rang out.  
It was Harry Potter.

But, why was he with the Dark Lord?

Albus stiffened when he realized that Tom's companion was his missing weapon. Only, something about the boy felt off to him. Somehow, the boy didn't feel human anymore. "What did you do?" Albus hissed, his anger clearly visible. Tom raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. "You mean, Albus," Tom said with a purr. "What did you do?"

Murmurs could be heard from the students, while the teachers grew alarmed. Minerva McGonagall; Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Mistress, blanched before turning murderous eyes on an uneasy Albus. 

Interesting.

"Did you honestly believe that you wouldn't be found out?" Tom continued, catching the students' attention. The once soft murmurs became an angry buzz. What had the Headmaster done that had gotten the attention of someone like the Dark Lord? "Albus," Minerva growled, her cinnamon colored eyes flashing. "If you harmed one hair on that boy, so help me, I will make you pay right here!" Shock swept through the students. Harry Potter? Was the Dark Lord really hinting that the Headmaster had harmed Harry Potter?

Impossible!

A dark chuckle escaped Tom, placing a hand against his temple as his eyes closed with delight. Oh this was rich! Albus always did have the habit of keeping information to himself. "Oh yes," Tom said slyly, placing a possessive hand on the silent teen’s shoulder. "You had this boy so doped up on spells and potions that it's a miracle that he was even conscious of anything." His red eyes glowed softly as he frowned. "Much less living," he muttered.

"What was that, Tom?"

Those who could hear Minerva, flinched. Her voice, while sharp, held a distinct sweetness to it. A type of sweetness that promised pain, that is. While this was going on, several students noticed that one of the Dark Lord's followers, was acting a little funny. It was a burly, yet feral looking man; the notorious Fenrir Greyback. The man was a known werewolf, who prided himself on infecting young children. Greyback; well, he wasn't looking too good. He was a bit on the pale side, and he was sweating visibly. Was he sick or something? Those who were near the werewolf cringed, and hastily scooted away.

Meanwhile, at the same time that those students had noticed Greyback’s odd behavior; the barest of emotions crossed Harry's face. Harry’s eyes had narrowed slightly as his lips curled into the faintest of smiles, then his face smoothed into total blankness.

/Now my child, NOW!/

What happened next, happened so fast that it left many blinking. Harry seemed to hunch, his right hand going into his cloak, and pulled something out. Before anyone could even react, Harry brought the object down on the Dark Lord; aiming directly at the central point of the spine.

Ouch.

Tom grunted as something hard collided with his spine. He collapsed, landing on his stomach as his back exploded with sudden pain. He was completely paralyzed; utterly paralyzed, much to his shock. Just then, he felt himself being nudged onto his back; which flared angrily. Tom found himself staring up at Harry's face with wide eyes. There was just one little problem.

Harry Potter wasn't exactly there.  
But someone else was.

An eerie darkness had completely devoured those jewel toned eyes. And when he turned to face the crowd, showing those soulless, pitch black eyes; every single person shivered as one.

"Potter!"

One particular foolish Death Eater stormed up to the teen, and then had the gall to actually slap the boy. Harry’s head snapped back slightly, and this action caused Harry to drop the object; revealing it to be a long, thin metal rod. Only the muggleborn students recognized it as a steel pipe.

Where'd he get that, anyway?

Then two more foolish Death Eaters grabbed the boy by his arms, effectively trapping him there. Tom tried to warn the trio, but then those dark eyes turned to him and something flashed in that empty gaze. Within seconds, a malicious energy took root in his core; and Tom's body locked in place.

Fuck.

As if satisfied, Harry turned back to the Death Eater who had slapped him. The way that he was smiling, was a bit unnerving. That very same Death Eater pointed their wand at the bemused teen. A sense of dread swept through the students as several shook their heads at such a foolish stunt. Harry merely raised an eyebrow at this.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

Everyone stilled, the sudden voice startling many. It was low, but held an echo to it; as if two people were talking. So it was a little frightening when they realized that voice belonged to Harry Potter. "Shut your trap!" One of the Death Eaters, who had been holding him, had just slapped him across the head.

Big mistake.

The candles suddenly flickered, and a shadow fell over the hall. The temperature took a sharp drop, and as Harry slowly lifted his head, a deadly aura consumed them. Before anyone could react, Harry delivered a vicious kick to the face of the Death Eater who was in front of him. At the same time, another Death Eater was practically choking from the thickening air. This particular Death Eater was wheezing, their eyes wild; clutching desperately at their heart. The Death Eater who had been kicked, went down after blood burst from their nose and mouth. And the wheezing Death Eater…? Well, they too, collapsed. 

Silence fell.

A Death Eater hurried forward, ripping their mask off as their hood fell. Underneath was a thin faced woman with wild dark hair and insane dark eyes; Bellatrix Lestrange. Kneeling next to the fallen Death Eater, she pulled the mask off. They had light blond hair, but their face had been severely damaged by the sudden kick. The nose was completely crushed, and the skull had caved in. And despite the damage, and the amount of blood; Bellatrix still recognized him.

"Rowle's dead," She announced.

Bellatrix stood up, her eyes sharp; yet confused. She knew that the brat had been experimented on, but what in Morgana’s name did they do that gave him such strength? From where she was sitting, Hermione Granger blanched from the grim announcement. If Potter ever found out what the Headmaster had done, then she and the others were screwed. To the amusement of some, she placed her head down and uttered a single, yet shocking word.

"Shit."

Another Death Eater knelt next to the other fallen, pulling the mask off. They made a noise that caught the attention of many. "Avery's dead, too!" They said loudly in shock. As if by some silent command, every single adult and student turned to Harry with dread.

Just what is Potter?!

Harry simply raised an eyebrow. "I did warn him," he said dryly. His form suddenly flickered, and without warning; he elbowed the two who had been holding him, hard.

Glass shattering…?  
What on earth–?

The two grunted, instinctively releasing their hold on Harry. And when the sound of glass shattering rang out; once again, everyone stilled. Realizing that something was terribly wrong, their attention was immediately drawn back to Harry. Well, Albus had been right on his suspicions.

Harry Potter wasn't human.

He was still the same height, but with a more tone, yet slender frame. A swimmer’s build, one might say. His face had become a bit sharper, yet paler. Harry’s silk black hair fell just a bit below his shoulders in thick curls, streaks of natural silver running through it.

That was it on his humanity.

Harry’s ears held a sharp, noticeable point; a glint of silver even shone in one. His eyes now shone a dark green with slitted silver pupils, against an endless sea of darkness. And when he smiled, he flashed some rather sharp looking teeth. 

Yikes.

Looking closer, they noticed that he wore no gloves, nor shoes. Instead, his nails were a bit longer than they should be, and they shone a polished black marble. Something seemed to curl around him, but it was somewhat hard to see due to the cloak that was wrapped around his frame. Suddenly, Harry bent over as if in pain. Without warning, a sickening wet sound of flesh ripping greeted them, causing quite a few to pale. The cloak was shredded as a bloody mist sprayed across the air; and no wonder. Large, blood soaked wings had burst from his back; flapping gently.

Yes, that’s right.  
Wings.

With the cloak shredded, quite a few got a good look at what was underneath and they blushed. Harry wore a full, black bodysuit that did nothing to hide those delicious muscles. His tail was twitching slightly as he flexed his wings.

Wait a minute…  
TAIL?!

Girls had to bite back their squeals when they realized that Harry had a cat’s tail. Said tail was covered in a fine layer of silky dark fur that reminded many of a panther.

Or a Nundu.

"What are you?" Bellatrix demanded, pointing her wand at the brat. Potter had somehow paralyzed her master, killed two Death Eaters, and grew a pair of bloody wings; all within a matter of minutes. Potter turned to her, tilting his head slightly as he smiled.

"Your executioner."  
What…?

Harry raised his right hand, before clenching his fist. Just then, a sharp pain went through Bellatrix; much to her confusion. The pain increased to the point where her muscles were becoming stiff; and she ended up dropping her wand. "What did you do?" Bellatrix demanded shrilly. The students exchanged curious looks. What was Lestrange even talking about? Harry hadn’t done anything but clench a fist.

Right?

Bellatrix looked down, only to see something moving underneath her skin. Panicking, she started to claw at her right arm, as if trying to pull something out. Hearing the familiar sound of wings flapping, everyone looked up; only to see that Harry was hovering above the crowd. "Poor, poor Bella," he mocked. "You made such a foolish decision by following a worthless man." Harry tilted his head, as if enjoying her rage. "Unfortunately, this will be your last."

Huh?

Harry moved just a bit higher, and just in time, too. As he moved out of sight, a distinct pop could be heard from Lestrange. Turning their heads slightly, many students began to scream. The popping that so many had heard was actually Bellatrix Lestrange exploding. Bits of bone, brain matter and blood splashed against the staff; including several students. Harry landed gently; his wings folding back as he tilted his head.

"Pity."

He brushed his bangs back, and what looked like horns jutting out, could be seen. Harry’s attention was drawn to the remaining Death Eaters; who shuddered from that intense gaze. Every last one of them got that sinking feeling that they were truly and utterly screwed. His eyes flickered to a shadowy corner, before going back to the rather nervous Death Eaters. Without warning, barbed wires slithered along the ground; snaking their way toward the remaining female Death Eater.

Alecto Carrow.

Alecto shrieked as dozens of barbed wire suddenly wrapped around her waist, and she was lifted high into the air. She was still screaming as more wire wrapped around her wrists and ankles; the small bits of metal dug painfully into her skin. Her brother, Amycus was downright murderous as he pointed his wand at Harry. "Let her go now, Potter!" He snarled. Harry simply glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. Growling, Amycus made a fatal mistake by casting an Unforgiveable.

"Crucio!"

Harry’s eyes grew cold and he calmly batted the curse off to the side. "Amycus!" Alecto screamed, drawing her brother’s attention. Alecto’s legs had been forced apart, when a set of barbed wire; about as thick as Hagrid’s arm, shot through her stomach.  
Blood was steadily gushing from the gaping wound, not to mention the amount of blood that she was coughing. Everyone could only watch in utter horror as Alecto Carrow was ripped in half. 

Amycus then made his second mistake. 

Whirling around, the man was practically spitting with rage. Before any of his fellow Death Eaters could stop him, Amycus cast the one spell that would forfeit his life.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Oh Amycus…  
'What a fool you are.'

The deadly spell flew through the air, speeding directly for the teen. Many yelled for Harry to move, but alas, Harry stood still. Instead, he raised a hand, as if to stop it; but that wouldn’t stop the killing curse.

Would it?

To everyone’s shock, the green energy stopped within inches of his hand. The energy hovered there for a moment, before it dissolved. Before anyone could even blink, Harry was standing in front of a startled Amycus. Amycus yelped, taking a step back in shock. The man jerked back, choking as Harry grabbed him by the throat. Everyone could only stare as Harry lifted the man with shocking ease. Then, Harry started to squeeze. Amycus’ eyes bulged as he clawed at Potter’s hand, desperate to breathe. But Potter had an iron-like grasp on his throat; which was increasing in strength. His bones groaned in protest at the harsh treatment, but he was able to gasp out one last thing.

"M…monster…"

Potter’s eyes narrowed slightly and he gave one last squeeze. There was a loud, sickening squelch as Amycus’ head was ripped off. The now headless corpse fell to the ground, with Potter still holding the man’s head.

Oh boy.

With what happened next, could only be described as a blood bath. Potter dropped the head with a snort, before turning his eerie eyes on the crowd. He tilted his head, and he gave a sudden, cruel smile. Harry suddenly appeared in front of the two Death Eaters who had held him down. He flicked his wrist, and he was suddenly behind them. For a moment, nothing happened and many wondered if he had even done anything. Then, without warning, one of the Death Eaters fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. The second Death Eater choked, taking a step back as blood sprayed across the air; before collapsing. Blood was pooling underneath them, and those who had a good view of things; saw why. The Death Eater’s throat had been slashed open. Taking a quick look at Harry, they saw that his right hand was covered with fresh blood. Dark energy began to cackle around his blood soaked hand; and was the air suddenly getting heavy or what?

Then he vanished.  
Not good. 

People jerked back, startled when a Death Eater suddenly lost their head; literally. Then, there came a set of matching yelps, catching everyone’s attention. One cry had come from the staff table, and the other had come straight from a Death Eater. Severus Snape, Potions Master; was cursing up a storm as he clutched at the bleeding stump that was once his left arm. Hearing that familiar voice also yelping, Severus knew that Lucius Malfoy had just gotten a similar treatment.

/Your services are no longer required./ 

Severus shuddered as a deep voice whispered in his mind. The voice was rich and velvety, but there was a hind of malice that he could sense. The voice was also ancient…and evil. Another Death Eater, a stocky and somewhat pudgy man with a silver hand, suddenly collapsed. Quite a few were confused by this, that is, until the Death Eater started to convulse; their mask falling off.

"Peter Pettigrew?!"

The convulsing Death Eater was indeed Peter Pettigrew as several people had recognized him. But, wasn’t Pettigrew killed by Sirius Black…? Glancing at the man; whose face was turning an angry red, the students exchanged uneasy looks. Something about this whole ordeal didn’t seem right to them. With one last rattling breath, Peter Pettigrew grew still and died. A blood soaked Harry reappeared, looking rather pleased with himself. Harry glanced at the obviously ill Greyback and snorted loudly. "What’s so funny, whelp?" Greyback growled, coughing a bit.

Harry smiled.

"You are Greyback," he mocked. His voice had taken on a more musical tone as his smile turned evil. "You don’t even know it, but you are already dead."

Say what?

Greyback’s coughing got worse, and a thick fluid dripped from his mouth as he bent over. "It’s interesting, isn’t it?" Harry continued. "How a big bad wolf like you was taken down by something like the H5N1 virus?" Greyback was getting dizzier by the minute, and he found that it was getting harder to breath. As his lungs filled with fluid, he heard Potter laughing with glee. "Congratulations Fenrir Greyback," Harry said lightly. "You are the first magical being to die from the Bird Flu." Fenrir Greyback gave a pained, raspy cough before he collapsed. His body twitched, before going still. No doubt it, he was deader than a doornail. Snickering, Harry’s attention was immediately drawn back to the paralyzed Dark Lord. Harry calmly walked towards the fallen man, his vicious smile sending chills down the spines of those who saw it. He flicked a wrist, and barbed wire slithered from the ceiling, wrapped around Tom’s ankles and lifted the man up until he was eye-level with the teen.

"As for you Tom…" Harry purred. He raised a clawed hand and with a pleased smile, brought it down on the Dark Lord. Tom screamed from the sudden pain of having something ripping into his chest. Blood gushed from his mouth, as well as flowing from the gaping hole in his chest. Stricken with pain, Tom started to draw in the magic from his remaining followers. It was a desperate move in an attempt to remain alive. But somehow, he knew that it wouldn’t work. As to why and how he knew, Tom saw that the boy was holding his still beating heart.

'What have I done?'

Harry looked at the organ with amusement. "Did you know Tom, that when the heart stops beating, the brain can survive for another seven minutes?" He questioned. "Who…who are you really?" Tom rasped, his voice nothing more than a bubbly gasp. Harry cocked his head, before his eyes narrowed slightly. He then crushed the organ, watching with empty eyes as the life in Tom’s eyes slowly died.

Then Harry collapsed.


	4. Family Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the frightening night coming to an end, Madame Pomfrey, along with some surprising people, are determined to keep Harry Potter out of not only Albus Dumbledore's hands, but the Ministry of Magic as well. And what's this...? James Potter has an older half brother?

{WARNING: Short chapter, some OCC}

.-.-.-

The moment Harry Potter had collapsed, the school healer; Madame Poppy Pomfrey, was up and running. Tom’s earlier warning came back to haunt her as she knelt next to the child. Poppy waved her wand over Harry, and a scroll containing every little thing that had been done to the boy; appeared before her.

.-.-.-.

Name: Harrison James Potter  
Age: Seventeen  
Hair: Black  
Eyes: Green/Black

-Family-

Charleus William Potter – Paternal Grandfather (D)  
Dorea Moira Black – Paternal Grandmother (D)  
Cyrus Jonathon Kriticos – Paternal Uncle (S)  
James Charleus Potter – Father (D)  
Lilian Rose Evans – Mother (D)  
Petunia Jane Evans – Maternal Aunt (S)  
Vernon Aaron Dursley – Maternal Uncle (M)  
Dudley Jackson Dursley – Maternal Cousin (S)  
Arthur Frederick Kriticos – Cousin (M)  
Kathrine Jean Kriticos – Cousin (M)  
Robert James Kriticos – Cousin (M)

-Injuries-

Mild Concussion: Five, Six, Seven, Ten, Thirteen  
Broken Arm (R): Six  
Broken Leg (R): Fifteen  
Broken Leg (L): Fifteen  
Burns: Five, Six, Twelve, Fifteen  
Nerve Damage: Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen  
Bruised Ribs: Six, Eight, Nine, Eleven, Twelve, Fifteen, Sixteen  
Fractured Ribs: Seven, Nine, Ten, Fifteen  
Internal Bruising: Five, Six, Seven, Nine, Ten, Twelve, Thirteen, Fifteen

-Spells, Potions and Blocks-

Compulsion: Obedience and Loyalty  
*Keyed to: Vernon Dursley, Albus Dumbledore  
Obliviate: Five, Seven, Nine, Eleven, Twelve  
*Caster: Albus Dumbledore, Gilderoy Lockheart  
Loyalty Potion  
*Keyed to: Albus Dumbledore, Molly Weasley  
Love Potion  
*Keyed to: Cho Chang, Ginny Weasley  
Repulsion Potion  
*Keyed to: Severus Snape, the Dark Arts, Slytherin  
Core Block: 100% broken  
Memory Block: 100% broken  
Soul Bond Block: 100% blocked

-Bloodlines-

Mediumship: 100% broken  
Telepathy: 80% broken  
Pyrokenesis: 20% broken  
Shadow Fae: 100% broken  
Kitsune: 20% broken

-Recent Activity-

Basilisk blood and venom  
Nundu blood  
Dragon blood; Hungarian Horntail  
Dementor blood  
Mer-Folk blood

-Contacts and Bonds-

Marriage Contract: Ginny Weasley (illegal)  
Soul Bond: Ryan Khun

.-.-.-.

Poppy gritted her teeth, seething with barely controlled rage. So much had been done to this boy; it was a miracle that he was even alive. She carefully levitated him, being mindful of his wings before speaking. Her voice was rather cold and her anger was clear to everyone. "Minerva," Poppy said sharply. "I suggest that you come with me to the Hospital Wing." The students watched as Professor McGonagall turned white, before she was hurrying after the irritated nurse. Professor Pamona Sprout, Herbology Professor, got up to help Severus Snape to the Hospital Wing. Professor Filius Flitwick, Charms Professor and former Dueling Champion, went to help the remaining Death Eater. He was a bit surprised to find that it was Lucius Malfoy.

The Headmaster got up as if to follow, only for Madame Pomfrey to whirl around with a savage growl. "I swear Albus," She said with gritted teeth. "If you come anywhere near Harry, it will be the last thing that you ever do!" Several students cringed, but many wondered why she had given Miss Granger and the remaining Weasley children such dangerous looks. With one last growl, she stormed off; muttering loudly.

'What was that about?'

.-.-.-.

The doors to the Hospital Wing flew open as a furious Poppy entered. She lowered him gently onto a bed, carefully making sure not to harm his wings. Poppy looked him over and sighed; shaking her head.

So much blood.

Poppy called for a House-Elf; useful little buggers, and had asked for a large basin of cold water and some cloths. While waiting for the House-Elf to return, Poppy got to work on removing Harry’s uniform. Thankfully, his wings made it a bit easier.

Eh?

Hearing footsteps, Poppy gritted her teeth. 'That had better be Minerva', she thought angrily. Realizing that the footsteps had grown louder, Poppy looked up to see that Minerva was just entering the Hospital Wing. Pamona and Filius were close behind her; they were helping an injured Severus and Lucius. Minerva hurried over, her face pale. "What happened, Poppy?" She demanded. "What happened to Harry?" She was worried, praying that Tom had been lying. But deep down, she had sensed the truth to his cryptic words. Poppy silently handed her the scroll, still removing the remains of Harry’s uniform.

Minerva scanned the contents, her eyes growing wide. She lowered the scroll, utterly shocked. "Minerva?" Filius called gently as Severus and Lucius were settled. Whatever was on that scroll could not be good, and this worried him. "I warned him," Minerva said suddenly, her eyes narrowing. "I told that bastard that they were the worst sort of muggles!" Shaking with anger, she handed the scroll over to Pamona who paled at the information before handing it over to Filius. Luckily, the House-Elf brought the water and cloths for her. The Elf quickly disappeared with a soft pop as Filius slipped into his native language due to his anger. Even Severus and Lucius looked stunned by the scroll’s contents; was that even possible? 

"He can’t stay here," Pamona said softly, glancing over to see that Poppy was cleaning up the blood. "His magic would be sealed," Minerva said bitterly. "And probably thrown into Azkaban," she continued with a dark mutter. Recalling one of the names from the scroll, it was Lucius who voiced it. "What about this Cyrus Kriticos?" Severus glanced at him, before turning thoughtful eyes over to Potter. "It might work," he mused. "The scroll did list him as a squib." Pamona frowned. "There’s just one problem," she warned. "We don’t know where that man lives." Without warning, a ball of flames appeared before them; revealing a beautiful red and gold bird.

Fawkes.

The phoenix flapped its wings, cooing softly. Not surprisingly, Severus and Lucius winced; then to their shock, Harry -whimpered-. A sense of unease swept through them. Oh man, if word got out about this, the press would have a field day.

Not to mention the Ministry.

As Poppy wiped the blood from Harry’s back, there came a loud crack. Everyone froze at the sudden sound, only to turn to the unconscious boy with wide eyes. Poppy slowly backed away, and no wonder. Harry’s wings had stretched out to their full length, quivering slightly. There was another crack, and Harry let out an unconscious groan. The wings continued to quiver, before they slid back in. It was a bit of a disgusting sight. As the wings slowly vanished, a small bulged appeared in his shoulder blades.

Ugh.

"Fawkes, can you take Harry to Cyrus Kriticos?" Pamona asked urgently, and sighed with relief as the phoenix nodded. Filius immediately went to work, helping Poppy with Harry. As Harry was cleaned up, Poppy changed him into a simple green shirt and black pants. Minerva summoned some parchment and a quill, before writing the urgent letter. She could only hope that the man would understand things, not to mention keeping Harry safe from Albus and even the Ministry. To make things easier for Harry, Filius cast the Goblin equivalent of a glamour. Now, Harry could pass for a normal human.

For now, anyway.

Minerva sealed the letter, and Fawkes snatched it up before flying over to Harry. The two vanished in a blaze of flames, and Minerva felt her heart break; knowing that this would be the last time that she would ever see him.

"Good luck, Harry."


	5. Dennis Rafkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis Rafkin is in desperate need of some cash, and so, decides to answer the job offer of Cyrus Kriticos. Why on earth was Dennis getting a bad feeling about this...?

Dennis Rafkin looked up at the imposing manor; swallowing thickly. At twenty-five years of age, he found that his life was on the verge of utter destruction. Having been born with a rare gift, he would soon come to see it as a curse. As a child, Dennis found that he could not go near anyone or any objects that people would use. Even the barest of touches would send strange images through his mind, and he would be in pain for days. It wasn't until he was older; that he realized what had happened. Somehow, he would get the memories and emotions of whoever he touched. Unfortunately, his body was unable to handle the strain, hence why every encounter left him in pain. He did his best to control it, but there were days where he wanted to give up; to give into the pain.

Like now, for instance. However, he didn't have much of a choice. His landlord was threatening to evict him, which meant that Dennis needed some cash; and fast. He looked down at the newspaper that he held, it was folded over to the job offers; one in particular was circled in red.

'I can do this.'

Taking a deep breath, Dennis reluctantly went up to the door and knocked. Not expecting anything to happen, he was surprised when the door opened. And the one who answered, was someone that he hadn't been expecting.

A child.  
Well, a teenager more like it.

Dennis inspected the teen carefully, realizing that the kid was male. The boy was rather small, so Dennis couldn't get a reading on his age. A thick curtain of black curls framed a pale, thin face and pitch black sunglasses shielded his eyes. Even as the door opened fully, Dennis realized that something was wrong. The boy was wearing a dark green turtleneck, blue jeans, a black hooded jacket, soft black hiking boots, and strangely enough, thick black gloves. The teen arched an eyebrow, watching Dennis with curiosity.

"Can I help you?"

Dennis blinked at the sound of a soft, yet heavily accented voice. "Um, yes." Boy, he sounded pathetic right now. "Is this the home of Cyrus Kriticos?" Realization dawned on the boy. "You're here for my uncle's article, aren't you?" He said flatly.

Wait-uncle?

Dennis flushed, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. The teen sighed and took a step back, allowing the man access. "He's in the study," He continued, gesturing for Dennis to follow. After an awkward pause, Dennis spoke up. "What's your name?" 

Silence, then...  
"Harry."

Finally, the two came to a door. "He's in here." Harry glanced at him with an unreadable look. "Good luck, Dennis," He said quietly, catching Dennis's attention. Dennis blinked owlishly, feeling a bit confused. How on earth did Harry know his name? He glanced uneasily at the door, swallowing a bit.

'Don't have much of a choice, do I?'

.-.-.-.

Upon entering the study, Dennis found an elder gentleman sitting at a large ornate desk. The man had thinning, dark curly hair, a graying beard and mustache; however, his head was lowered, so Dennis could not see his eyes. Moments later, the man looked up.

Dark eyes met pale green.

"Sir?" Dennis asked uneasily, holding up the newspaper. "I'm here about your article." The man raised an eyebrow; it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Dennis watched as the man; no doubt Cyrus Kriticos, reached into a desk draw, and pulled something out. To Dennis's curiosity, the object was an old toy cap gun.

"Catch."

The toy was tossed in his direction, with Dennis barely catching it. However, the moment his fingers grasped the object; -it- happened to have kicked in. Dennis jerked wildly; a sharp, burning heat tearing through his head as he collapsed. Mr. Kriticos simply looked on, a look of dark amusement could be seen within his eyes.

'Too much, too much, too much!'

Dennis convulsed as painful images ripped his head apart. The images were that of a young, but bratty boy. He was shown that the kid had been badly spoiled by his parents, and seemed to be obsessed with cowboys. Then, the final image shown was that of the boy with an arrow through his head.

'Oh god...'

Finally breaking through the pain; Dennis threw the toy away. Dennis fell limp, his muscles sore; panting heavily. "Jesus Christ," He groaned. "Well?" The man demanded, sharply. "That kid," Dennis got out, decidedly weak. "He...he was shot in the head!" The man gave a slight nod. "Good," He murmured.

"You're hired."

Outside the study, Harry tilted his head; as if listening to something. He sighed, shaking his head. "I warned him," He mumbled. Harry then removed his sunglasses, glancing at his reflection in a hallway mirror. His eyes shone an intense shade of emerald green, eyes with a slitted silver pupil; against an endless sea of darkness.

"You just made a deal with the devil."


	6. The Hunt Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt for the Black Zodiac begins. And a secret of Harry's is revealed...

{The First Born Son}

Two weeks had passed since he was hired by Cyrus Kriticos, and Dennis couldn't help but wonder if he had made the right choice. Cyrus was an odd man; who was downright creepy at times, but not his nephew. Dennis found Harry to be a sweet kid, if not a little shy. Surprisingly enough, Harry was only five years younger than Dennis himself.

'What are we doing here, anyway?'

Dennis was rather confused, and he really couldn’t be blamed for it, either. Out of the blue, Cyrus insisted upon visiting some nameless neighborhood about three districts over from the manor. Even more curious, was what happened after they arrived. Dozens of men in the bright orange uniforms of construction workers were busy setting something up. Thankfully, the street they were on was all but abandoned by the public. However, Dennis had a feeling that he knew why it was abandoned. Much like Dennis, Harry was watching as the events unfolded themselves; confused, if not a little weary. When a large cube was set at the edge of the street, a sense of unease struck Harry. The cube was roughly six feet in height, and five feet in width; made from the thickest of glass. There was even strange white lettering that marked the glass.

/"Who are you?"/

Eh?

Looking down, Harry blinked owlishly; surprised to see a little boy standing next to him. The little boy looked to be about eight or nine with short brown hair, and light blue eyes. His clothing was slightly out of date; a dark green shirt and jeans. Strangely enough, he was wearing a costumed Indian headpiece; and was that a tomahawk?! The boy was frowning as he glared at the workers. /"You shouldn’t be here!"/ He insisted, gripping the tomahawk tightly. "Harry," Dennis called out, sounding uneasy. "You need to move." Turning his head slightly to his left; Harry saw that Dennis was now wearing a strange pair of safety goggles. There was an eerie blue light coming from the frames. Come to think of it, everyone was wearing them; even Cyrus.

[What's going on?]

Harry yelped as Dennis grabbed him by his left arm and yanked him back; just as the tomahawk was aimed where he had been standing only moments before. If the tomahawk had met its mark, it would have dug into Harry's ribcage. "Are you crazy, Harry?!" Dennis hissed, glaring at the dazed male. "And why aren't you wearing the spectral goggles?" Blinking owlishly, Harry realized that Dennis must have meant those funny looking goggles. Dennis frowned, before realization dawned on him. "Harry," He said slowly as said person glanced at him curiously.

"Can you, uh, see 'that'?"

Dennis gestured to the spirit, who continued to glare at them. Harry then glanced at the spirit, and snorted. "If you mean the kid, then yeah." Dennis felt his heart sink; now truly uneasy.

"I can see him."

Dennis swallowed thickly. "And does he look a little, say unusual?" He asked weakly. Harry raised an eyebrow, somehow looking both annoyed and skeptical. "Dennis," He said in a soft, but sharp tone. "He's just a little kid." Harry glanced at the spirit, before sighing. "If not a little pale." Blinking owlishly, and paling slightly; Dennis stared blankly at Harry. "Harry," Dennis was beginning to hysterical. "I don't know if you noticed it, but the kid has a fucking arrow through his head!" And what Harry said next, sent a chill through Dennis.

"What arrow?"

.-.-.-.

The shimmering form of ten-year-old Billy Michaels, was scowling heavily. For the first time since his death, a change was coming to the neighborhood; and Billy was downright pissed. Looking over the scurrying mortals; who somehow reminded him of mice, before realizing that one mortal wasn't paying attention.

An older boy.

However, as he warped over; he realized two things. One, everyone, except for the boy, wore those weird looking glasses. And two, the boy was looking straight at him.

What if…?

A wicked smile crossed his lips.

'Time to play…'


	7. Playing with the Big Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy Michaels realizes that he's met his match in Harry Potter. As for Harry, he loses control over 'that' and shocks everyone with a new ability.

Cyrus Kriticos was left staring at his little nephew, his eyes carefully blank as he mused over the boy’s sudden admission. So, Harry could see spirits without using the spectral goggles? And the fact that Harry could see Billy Michaels the way he was in life, just made things very interesting. For now, he was content to remain in the shadows, watching as the events unfolded themselves.

.-.-.-.

Dennis couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Harry couldn’t see the arrow that was through the kid’s forehead. Wait a minute, he tried to calm down his racing heart. Harry admitted that he could see that the boy was a little pale, but nothing else. Was it possible that Harry was not seeing the ghost of Billy Michaels, but the way the kid was like when he was alive?

.-.-.-.

Harry was looking from Dennis to the kid, and back again. Honestly, what was the big deal? So, there was a little kid here, that was nothing to make a scene about. He looked back to the kid, tilting his head; as if trying to figure out what it was about the kid that was sending everyone into hysterics.

[Here goes nothing.]

"What's your name?" Harry asked, his voice soft; giving nothing away. The boy smirked, his blue eyes reflecting a malice soul. /"Billy,"/ He said lightly. Those blue eyes traveled over to Dennis, and his grin took on a more twisted appearance. /"You know, you should listen to him."/

"Like you did with your parents?"

Billy stiffened, his head swerving back to Harry; his eyes widening slightly. Harry's head was lowered slightly, his bangs shadowing his eyes. When he had spoken, it wasn't his voice that Billy heard, but something else; something that was much stronger. /"How…?"/ Billy asked shakily. Dennis and the workers stood there, too afraid to even move; stunned by what happened next. Harry seemed to stagger where he stood, before straightening himself out. /"How do you know about my parents?!"/ Billy yelled, gripping his tomahawk tighter; his blood lust rising as the teen remained silent. How dare this mortal remind him of his stupid parents? 

Without warning, Harry vanished; shocking everyone. That…that shouldn't be possible! No human was that fast! From where he was watching, Cyrus was thoughtful; his dark eyes sharp. This, may not be a good thing…for Harry, that is. Billy froze, his blue eyes searching frantically, even stretching out his spiritual senses for the missing boy. He then sensed a dark energy coming from behind, and Billy whirled around; eyes wide. Sure enough, Harry stood there; his head still lowered. When he lifted his head, Billy actually took a step back in fear as pitch black orbs bore into his frightened blue ones.

Harry smiled slightly.

"Billy Michaels," He intoned, his voice low. "A spoiled brat who was obsessed with cowboys and indians," Harry continued. Over by the workers, Dennis perked up. How did Harry know the kid's name? For some reason, he had the strangest feeling that Cyrus was someone that didn’t give out info so easily. The seemingly entranced boy began to walk towards the nervous spirit. "Always disobedient, never listening as his parents tried to get him to focus on the real world." The temperatures were beginning to drop. Billy was so focused on Harry, that he failed to see as the more braver workers; who were by the cube that Harry had seen earlier, setting something up. "Then your friend had to find that bloody bow in his dad's closet." 

Harry stopped, and his face suddenly turned ugly. Billy suddenly realized that Harry was now in front of him. To everyone's shock, Harry actually slapped the boy upside the head. Billy yelped, dropping his tomahawk as he rubbed at his head; stunned. /"I-I felt that…"/ He trailed off, blue eyes wide as he looked up at Harry. /"That’s not possible…"/ His blue eyes, once frightened turned angry. /"You can't do that!"/ He screeched. /"That's cheating!"/ Dennis winced, his own instincts rising up as Harry stilled. 'That wasn’t smart kid', Dennis thought nervously.

Eyes narrowing dangerously, Harry's head lowered as his right hand lashed out and grasped Billy by his left arm. /"Hey,"/ Billy squeaked, trying to pull back. Despite the impossibility, Harry's grasp remained true and strong. /"Let go!"/ Harry was silent as he dragged the protesting spirit towards the cube. Billy spotted the cube, and felt his fear rising and he was struggling to get away from the terrifying boy. /"Let me go or else!"/ Billy yelled. "Oh shut up you little brat," Harry snapped back. He continued to grumble under his breath in a funny language, and Billy thought he heard the name 'Dudley', but it could have been his imagination. Everyone watched, numb as Harry dragged the spirit over to the cube. "Ungrateful brats."

And just like that, Harry threw the spirit into the cube. A worker scrambled forward, pressing a button on a machine and moments later, the door to the cube slammed shut; sealing the boy inside. Almost immediately, the lettering began to glow as the boy screeched his fury, clawing at the glass. Looking satisfied, Harry took a step back, and only Billy saw as the darkness receded; leaving dazed green eyes. Harry groaned, reaching up to his now throbbing temples. His vision was beginning to turn grey and blur, and he was left ill and weak. "H-Harry?" Dennis called, his voice strangely subdued. Harry turned to Dennis, and he gave a weak smile before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed.

Dennis ran over, his pale green eyes scanning the boy. He relaxed when he found no injuries and realized that Harry had simply passed out due to exhaustion. Unfortunately, this event left many with questions. Sadly, the only one who could answer them, laid unconscious. Cyrus watched as Dennis carefully picked his nephew up and carried him over to one of the many vehicles. 

Interesting.


	8. Sinful Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While hunting down the ghost of Isabella Smith, Harry reveals some interesting info to Dennis. It seems there's a good reason behind Cyrus's oddness.

-Two Weeks Later-

Bedford, Massachusetts

"So, why are we here again?" 

Dennis Rafkin set the box of tools that he had been carrying, down on a bench. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he looked over to where Harry was watching him. After that little incident with Billy Michaels, the younger male had taken to wearing his sunglasses; and was tense and agitated when a worker or even Cyrus got too close. "You mean, Cyrus didn't tell you?" Dennis asked, shocked that Harry hadn't known why they were in the New England town. Harry raised an eyebrow, giving Dennis an amused look. "If he had, would I be asking you?" He said, dryly as Dennis flushed; rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish manner.

True.

From the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw something. It was just out of his visual range. Hm, it was probably nothing…

Sighing, Dennis checked to see if a worker or Cyrus were nearby; which they weren't, before gesturing for Harry to follow. The two walked over to where a bench was underneath an old oak tree, and sat down. "We're here because of Isabella Smith."

Isabella Smith?

"According to Cyrus," Dennis began, his voice heavy. "Isabella came here from England in 1675." He looked up, his eyes dark and troubled. "Not long after she arrived, the town was hit with a mysterious plague that was killing their livestock." Harry raised an eyebrow, having a feeling that he knew where this was leading too. "The town preacher accused the poor girl of witchcraft," Dennis continued. "Of course, magic doesn't exist," He muttered. "She denied the claim, but the entire town turned against her." Dennis shook his head, feeling sympathetic for the young girl. "The preacher that had accused her suddenly fell ill." Harry raised a hand, as if to silence the older male. "No need," He said dryly. "The residents tried to kill her, didn't they."

/"Yes, and they failed."/

Eh?

Keeping his expression calm, Harry saw, that someone was standing in front of them. She was a pretty young woman, roughly at an age where she was capable of living alone. Her dark hair was partially tied back, soft features and pale skin, and intense dark eyes. She was dressed in an old fashioned green gown, complete with apron and bonnet. For some reason, her arms were locked in an odd position; what if…?

[Is that Isabella Smith?]

"Actually," Dennis sounded embarrassed. "The townsfolk cornered her in a farm and set the place on fire." Harry raised an eyebrow, his eyes absentmindedly traveling back to Miss Smith, before focusing on Dennis once more. "She survived the fire without a single injury." At this, Dennis snorted, catching Harry's attention. "Then," He said slowly. "How did she die?"

"A slow death in the stocks."

Harry winced. "I wouldn't wish starvation on anyone," He mumbled, before mentally slapping himself. Dennis looked at Harry with concern, he had his suspicions; and was hoping that he was wrong. "Harry, how do you know how Isabella died?"

Er… 

.-.-.-.

Isabella was quite curious as to who was invading her once peaceful 'home'. But, was home really a proper word for her terrible past? She hovered in place, watching with curious white eyes as strange men darted about in the now empty town; but it was two males who had caught her attention. An older male with brownish-blond hair and a younger male with hair an inky black. She followed them to a bench, listening in as the older male explained a bit of her backstory. She absentmindedly corrected the younger male that the attempt on her life through the fire had failed. But, how had he known of her true death? And what did he mean by his odd words?

.-.-.-.

Dennis was getting impatient, giving Harry a stern look as the younger male cringed. "Harry," He growled. "How did you know?" Sighing with defeat, Harry took a quick look to make sure that no worker or Cyrus were nearby, before silently casting a ward so that the two (or should that be three?) wouldn't be disturbed. 

Him and his big mouth!

"I know what it's like to starve," Harry mumbled. "Wh-what…?" Dennis rasped, his voice shocked. "Dennis, I didn't exactly have the best of childhoods," Harry said bitterly. The older male froze, his pale green eyes wide. "Harry, did Cyrus ever…?"

What?

Harry looked up sharply, his sunglasses sliding down. "What?" His voice was sharp. "No, of course not!" He insisted. "I've only been living with Cyrus for the last two years." Dennis blinked, before looking at the petite boy a bit more closer. Now that he was really paying attention, Dennis realized that Harry had suffered from malnutrition; which had stemmed from very early childhood. "Dennis," Harry said suddenly, his head lowered. "Can I tell you something?" Dennis was a bit taken back by this. "Something that Cyrus can't know about." The older male was shocked. He hadn't known Harry all that long, and the boy was trusting him with such a secret? Well, Dennis knew what he would say.

"Of course."

[Wise choice, Dennis.]

"You said that magic didn't exist, right?" Dennis nodded, still confused. Harry smirked, and did his teeth look sharper just now? "I'm afraid that’s a lie." His eyes gleamed, but then he frowned as he heard Miss Smith screech 'Demon Spawn!' or 'Satan's Child!'. She kept yelling that magic was the work of the devil, and how he would burn in hell for eternity for his sin.

Bitch.

Dennis was about to retort how magic wasn't real, before Harry turned a murderous gaze to the side; as if glaring at someone who was standing before them. But, there was no one there…or was there? "Magic is real," Harry said icily. "My father was from an ancient and noble house; the Potter's," He explained, the temperature slowly dropping. "Cyrus is from the same blood, only he doesn't know it." Harry frowned. "And he can never know." Dennis tilted his head, confused by Harry's ominous words. "What do you mean by that?" He questioned. "Wasn't Cyrus older than your father?"

Oh boy.

"Technically yes," Harry said slowly. "They share the same father," He continued. "But, this is where things get ugly." Grimacing, Harry ran a hand through his hair. "My grandfather, Charleus Potter," Harry wondered how he was going to explain this. "He had an affair with a married woman while here in America." Dennis turned wide eyes on Harry. "That woman was Cyrus's mother."

"Unfortunately, grandfather Charles was already married to my grandmother, Dorea Black, when this happened." Harry winced. "From what I can understand, Mother Magic; who is Lady Hecate," He said slowly. "Punished Charles for his transgression." And boy, was it an ugly punishment. "Wha-what happened…?" Dennis asked, wondering if he wanted to know. "Mother Magic stripped Charles of two-fourths of his magic; which damaged his health," Harry said flatly. "She also punished Cyrus, stripping him of his core." Sighing, his head lowered once more. "I'm pretty sure that's why he’s so off," He muttered. Removing his sunglasses, Harry looked back to Dennis with sorrowful eyes.

"Dennis, you need to understand," He said with a soft voice. "Our magic is in our very blood, it can be blocked but it isn't advisable." Harry paused for a moment. "Blocking our cores will either leave us weak and ill, or outright kill us." Dennis froze, before anger washed over him; not at Harry, but at the ominous words that Harry uttered with such defeat. A similar thing must have occurred to him, for him to sound so defeated like this.

.-.-.-.

Isabella, who had raved and ranted when the little black-haired male had said that magic was real, had stopped in mid-rant when he had admitted that without their magic they would grow weak and ill, or die outright. As much as she hated the idea of witchcraft, she could not condone the death of a child. After all, she would be no better than those who had tormented her in life.

"Good-bye for now, Isabella."

.-.-.-.

Dennis jerked back, shocked when an earthly cry knocked him out of his darkening thoughts. Harry was silent, having removed the ward as an angry worker approached them. "What the hell were you two thinking?!" The man yelled. "You had the ghost right in front of you!" Dennis paled, looking at Harry with wide eyes; who simply stared back.

'Why am I getting a bad feeling?'


	9. Breaking a Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to locate the one whose been picked as 'The Torso'. During the run, Dennis finds out just what Harry's ability was, and unfortunately, blurts it out. Now, Cyrus was definitely interested in his nephew's 'gifts'. Way to go Dennis!

Docks  
New York City, New York

Oh wow.

Harry couldn't believe how bright and colorful New York City was at times. London was nothing like this; practically grey and dreary. So yes, he was quite happy about being here; even with their little job of 'collecting'. However, deep down inside, Harry knew that with how things were going, Cyrus would get his much deserved fate sooner than later.

After all…  
…you don't screw with the dead.

Harry watched as Dennis helped the workers set the cube up as others prepared for the summoning. He walked over and peered over Dennis's shoulder, as the man knelt down checking on the wiring of one of the machines that was being used. "So," He said softly, amused when the older man jumped. "Who are we looking for?" Placing a hand over his racing heart, Dennis shot Harry an annoyed look, huffing slightly as the younger male grinned. "Jimmy Gambino," He piped up. "According to Cyrus, his body was dumped into the river here."

Harry blinked, before reaching up to his temples as a headache was beginning to form. "Don't tell me," He said dryly. "The guy was big on gambling." Dennis blinked, looking at him in surprisement. "How'd you know?" He asked, shocked. He couldn't believe that Harry knew something about their next pickup. Wait, Harry wasnt a psychic like he was…? Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a rather seedy looking man with auburn hair and brown eyes, lurking nearby. He then focused on Dennis, and tilted his head slightly. "The name gave it away," Harry said flatly.

Oh.

Standing up, Dennis brushed the dirt from his pants, when he realized that Harry had grown quiet and was focusing on a building that was considered the outskirts of the city; the docks having been behind the buildings. He turned a curious look on the younger boy, and saw how Harry was frowning; looking annoyed. "Let me guess," Dennis said with a sigh, "you're looking at him right now, aren't you?"

"Yes."

.-.-.-.

Jimmy Gambino grunted as he hauled himself up. Larry may have robbed him of his life, but in death, he became so much more. Sure, he had been drawn and quartered, but he wasn't letting that stop him. Ever since his death, a string of terrible luck would strike certain people.

People like Larry Vatello.

His vision was slightly blurry, thanks to the plastic wrap, but he could vaguely make out shadowy figures lingering around the docks where Vatello's men had dumped his body. Jimmy felt a faint sense of anger burning as something heavy was being dragged down to where the docks began. His anger only grew as more shadowy figures swarmed the area, and his anger melted into bloodlust.

Oh, hell no!

.-.-.-.

Harry was surprised to see just how young Jimmy Gambino was, he barely looked to be in his twenties and was dressed in clothes that you would expect from the twenties or thirties. His mind raced over what little he knew of the area, and wasn't liking in what he was finding. Harry's eyes narrowed from behind his sunglasses and something seemed to have settled over him.

Dennis blinked, a bit startled when Harry suddenly straightened up and began to march towards a building. Realizing what was about to happen, he scrambled to put on the spectre glasses, as he had a feeling that Harry was about to do something rather unusual; again. So, it was surprising for many, when Harry strode up to something or someone that they could not see; not until they used the spectre glasses. Upon donning the glasses, the workers were treated to a rather frightening (or should that be amusing?) sight of Harry scolding who could only be Jimmy Gambino. And when Harry grabbed at something above, that was when everyone realized something about one Harry Potter.

Harry could not see that Jimmy was nothing more than a pile of body parts.

And yet…  
…he grabbed at something that was above the body parts.

"It all makes sense now," Dennis mused, his voice carrying and catching the attention of not only the nearby workers, but Cyrus himself. "What are you talking about?" One worker asked, their voice curious. Dennis flushed as everyone turned to stare at him, although he was a bit nervous by the dark gleam in Cyrus' eyes. "Well, Harry doesn't need the glasses to see the ghosts, right?" Some of the workers nodded, they had seen that the kid didn't need the glasses. "And he can easily talk with them," Dennis gestured to where Harry was, and again, they nodded. "So, there's only one psychic ability that allows someone to see and communicate with spirits." 

After he woke his own gifts up, Dennis researched as much as he could about psychic abilities; looking for a way to turn his off. And, he recalled that he had come across a passage on mediumship. "Harry's a medium." At this sudden admission, Cyrus was giving his nephew a sharp, but interesting look and Dennis grimaced as he realized the implications of his words.

Harry was going to be pissed.

'Sorry Harry.'


	10. Sideshow from Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyrus had tracked down his next two spirits for the 'Great Child' and 'Dire Mother', as in the mother/son pair that was Harold and Margaret Shelbourne. Still angry with Dennis, Harry takes to the woods in order to calm down. Only, someone may not be as murderous as their history dictates.

Two Months Later

Yep.  
Harry was definitely mad.

Some of the workers couldn't help but pity Dennis. They had noticed that, despite the short amount of time of knowing each other, Dennis and Harry were pretty close. But after the guilty admission from the older male, Harry turned and gave Dennis the cold shoulder. And not one worker could blame Harry. They may work for Cyrus, but they weren't loyal to the man. There was something off about one Cyrus Kriticos, and whatever it was, left many uneasy. But, the man was the one who signed off on their paychecks, so there wasn't much of a choice for them. They felt bad for Harry, though. Thanks to Dennis, Cyrus was paying much more closer to his little nephew. As of right now, they were hunting down Cyrus' choice for the Great Child and Dire Mother. Cyrus, did however, find a mother and son who clearly fit the bill; and unlike the others, the backstory to these two were pretty gruesome.

Harold and Margaret Shelbourne.

According to Dennis, who still looked green from the violent visions. Margaret Shelbourne suffered from a rare physical disorder that he remembered reading about; dwarfinism. She eventually made her way to a freak show/circus that was ran by a man named Jimbo. Sadly, the poor woman was brutally raped by the Tall Man, and had a beastly of a son. Harold Shelbourne had been spoiled rotten by his own mother, so much so that he could barely care for himself and remained in diapers his entire life. The other circus workers decided to play a cruel joke on the two, and had kidnapped Margaret. In a panicked fuel rage, Harold actually tore the carnival apart, only to find that his mother had suffocated in the trunk where they had stashed her.

In retaliation, Harold grabbed an axe that was normally used for firewood, and went on a bloody massacre. In his madness, he displayed what was left of the ‘freaks’ for every paying customer. Unfortunately, Jimbo found out and had Harold mutilated beyond human recognition. When Dennis revealed their backstories, it was without a doubt, that many would be having nightmares. No one was envious, and had been greatly disturbed whenever Dennis would have a vision; as it left him in violent seizures and ill. 

This was no gift, but a curse.

Harry was silent, as he glared at anyone who would come near. While he hadn't been paying attention to what Dennis was saying (he was still mad at the man), there was something about the area that was setting his instincts off. The air…it felt heavy with grief and rage, and there was a particular scent within the cooling air. It was a scent that Harry was all too familiar with; it was the metallic scent of blood. His magic was churning under his skin, and his tight control was close to snapping. Grimacing as his head started to hurt, Harry knew that he needed to cool down; and fast.

After checking to make sure that no one was watching, Harry bolted for the surrounding woods. He could not allow any of the workers to know about his magic, and to be honest, he really didn't feel like dealing with the MACUSA. They barely allowed him to live in America as it was, it was only after agreeing to have a probation period of one year and being watched over one of their agents; that they agreed to allow Harry to live in somewhat peace.

[This is only going to get worse.]

Reaching a clearing, Harry came to a halt. He was partially bent over, breathing heavily. Jeez, he really needed a workout if a little run left him this winded. Slowly straightening himself, Harry stood up; taking a deep breath and inhaled softly. As Harry breathed, his magic began to lash out at the nearby trees. Soft cracks echoed as branches snapped off, and there was a funny smell as some of the branches began to burn from the heat of his magic.

Whoops.

Seeing what was happening with his magic, Harry’s eyes widen slightly before he flushed with embarrassment. He was nineteen for Merlin's sake! He shouldn’t still be having bouts of accidental magic! Then again, hadn't Tom said something about his magic being blocked? 

Right…

[How could I forget that?]

Closing his eyes, Harry did his best to calm down. If he had some ability over fire, being upset wouldn't help his case. He needed to relax and calm down, otherwise Cyrus would have a reason to hunt him. As his eyes closed, there, just at the edge of his senses, he picked up on the presence of two people.

Wait a minute.

Hadn't he been alone only a moment before…?  
…what if?

Not moving from where he stood, a slight smile graced his lips as he tilted his head slightly. "Ya know," He said softly. "I've never been to the circus before."

.-.-.-.

The ghostly forms of Harold and Margaret Shelbourne watched as these strange people crowded the area where Jimbo's Circus once stood. Neither were happy with the intrusion, but as they listened to one man who explained the reasoning behind their arrival; Margaret was pleasantly surprised to learn that there was indeed a term for her condition.

Without warning, the two felt a dark energy filtering through the air. So, it was rather surprising to see that the energy was coming straight from the small, dark haired male. The curiosity grew when said male took off for the woods. Taking a look back at the workers, Margaret made the decision to follow the boy and guided her curious son to a clearing that was about twenty minutes away. The two reached the clearing shortly after the boy did. And boy, were they shocked when some of the branches started to either snap off or catch fire. There was no way that this young male was normal. If Jimbo was still alive, the man would have been gleeful at the idea and no doubt about it, he would have shown off the boy.

Suddenly…

"Ya know," The boy said softly.   
"I've never been to the circus before." 

Wait…what?

.-.-.-.

"The circus," Harry said softly. "I was never allowed to go." He sighed, looking up at the cloudy skies, somehow comforted by the sight. "Whenever there was one nearby, my relatives would take my cousin," Harry frowned slightly. "And I would be left behind with a babysitter." 

Silence.

[Might as well.]

Wrapping his arms around himself, a bitter smile twisted his lips; his back still to the watching spirits. "The circus was only for good, normal people," He said quietly, yet there was a hint of anger within. "Not for ungrateful, worthless freaks."

/"You look like a perfectly normal boy to me."/

Harry didn't react at the sound of a soft, girlish voice. Despite the pitch of the voice, he knew that things weren't always as they seem. Hm, so that's who his visitors were. He was just glad that it wasn't Cyrus or any of his men. Sighing, Harry slowly turned around. 

"I'm afraid that my relatives would disagree with you, Ms. Shelbourne."

.-.-.-.

Harold tilted his head, as the boy continued to speak. This boy was nothing like the freaks of Jimbo's show. In fact, he looked like any ordinary boy that you would see on the streets. He made a noise of confusion as his mother voiced his question out loud. The boy sighed, before he turned around and was looking straight at them

"I'm afraid that my relatives would disagree with you, Ms. Shelbourne."

His mom was startled as the boy addressed her directly. So, the boy shouldn't be able to see them, much less speak with them. Harold assumed this was why his mother was startled by the boy's actions. Realizing that the boy was looking straight at them, and that he had personally addressed her, Margaret Shelbourne was suspicious. Now that the boy was facing them, Margaret could get a better look at him. And for the first time since her death, Margaret felt her motherly instincts rise up. The boy was small and slight, his skin a bit on the pale side, but thick dark curls framed his face. Although he was dressed quite warmly, she could tell that the way he held himself, he was anything but healthy.

/"What's your name?"/ She asked curiously.

Harold turned, wondering why his mom was acting like this, and he unconsciously gripped his axe just a little bit tighter. The boy tilted his head, a look of bemusement adorning his face. "Harry, Harry Potter." At the sound of the boy's name, Harold relaxed. /"We have the same name, momma,"/ He murmured. 

Hm.   
So they did.

Harry was silent, as he gazed at the two. From his view, Harry was looking at a very small, but grown woman with dark hair done up in pigtails. And next to her, was a grown and heavyset male with curly blond hair. The woman was dressed in an old fashioned dress, and the man was wearing nothing but a diaper, and a bib was tied around his thick neck.

Oh boy.

A soft sigh escaped Harry, before something seemed to settle over him as he looked straight at the two. "I'm sorry," He said softly. "But, for what it's worth, I’m not on his side." The two were confused, before a loud chant reached the clearing. The teen watched as the two suddenly vanished, knowing that Cyrus got his 'Great Child' and 'Dire Mother'. Huffing out a tortuous breath, Harry had but one thought.

[This is not going to end well.]


	11. Beauty is Only Skin Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on the run for 'The Angry Princess', Dennis picks up on something interesting about Harry. Here's hoping that Cyrus doesn't find out!

A week.

That's how long Cyrus gave his men to rest. Normally, one would grumble over this with all of the work that had been done, but alas, not here. Many of the workers needed the money, and Cyrus did promise an even larger payoff. 

So, they kept quiet.  
Probably not a good thing.

.-.-.-.

Hm.

[Who is that?]

Harry tilted his head, frowning slightly. Lately, he had been noticing that there were two extra people who seemed to be following their group; a man and woman, both looking to be in their mid to late twenties. The man was tall with wavy brown hair and dark eyes, while the woman was a bit on the small side, but with curly auburn hair and cold brown eyes. He ignored the man, but that woman set him on edge. Perhaps it had something to do with her cold, cruel eyes. Or perhaps it was the fact that her aura pulsed with a sickly darkness. A darkness that seemed to latch on and link directly towards Cyrus. Seeing this left him rather uneasy.

Best to keep an eye on the pair.

.-.-.-.

Dennis looked up at the stairs that lead to a boarded up home. If not for the boards and the overrun yard; this would likely be a cozy starter type home. Sad to say, the house had been abandoned long ago and no wonder.

The original owners, the Newman's, had been your average family. The mother worked as a store clerk and the father a businessman. It was the daughter, who had suffered a tragic life. Dana Newman had been a very beautiful girl, but had been oblivious to her looks. She had a string of abusive boyfriends, who dragged her down into a spiral of depression that many struggled to help her. For some reason, she had gotten a job at a beauty clinic where she was paid in nose jobs, breast implants and other needless plastic surgery. Finally giving up on perfection, the poor girl drew a bath and slit her own wrists until she bled to death. According to the reports, they said she was as beautiful in death as she was in life.

At least Harry was talking to him again.

"So," Harry said softly as he slid up to the man. "Who are we looking for this time?" Dennis silently handed him a picture of Dana Newman that had been in the file, wondering what the younger male would say about it. Harry took the picture, and examined it carefully. The picture was that of a lovely girl with thick golden blond hair, fair skin and definitely European blood. 

"She's pretty."

.-.-.-.

Dana watched from the window of the second floor bathroom; the same bathroom that she had died in. Her empty black eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of all of the man who were crowding on her home. How dare these filthy men intrude in on her home! This wouldn't do, not at all. Dana gripped the knife that she had used to take her own life, her anger and disgust over these men rising, and just as she was about to lash out; she heard the soft voice of the youngest male. His voice, somehow reaching her ears.

"She's pretty."

Wait - what?

.-.-.-.

Dennis raised an eyebrow, as he looked down at Harry with bemusement. "Only pretty?" He teased, snickering as Harry turned a light pink. "What do you want from me, Dennis?" He mumbled slightly, a bit of a whine could be heard. "She is pretty, just not my type."

Oh?

.-.-.-.

Dana froze, her eyes wide when the youngest male admitted that she was pretty. Her shock then melted into anger when the boy said that she wasn't her type. /"What?"/ She growled, her voice dripping with anger. 

/"I'm not good enough for you?"/

.-.-.-.

Dennis tilted his head, wondering what Harry meant by his words. Unfortunately, he could not sense the rising anger coming from the abandoned house; but Harry could. "What?" Dennis sounded confused. "You got a girlfriend or something?"

Harry turned a light pink.

Oh boy.

Seeing the sudden change in Harry's posture, Dennis got a funny feeling. "Harry," He said slowly. The younger male seemed to withdraw into himself, and Dennis had a feeling that his eyes were darting from one place to another behind those shades. "Are you gay?" Harry looked up, his cheeks flushed and he shyly looked away; silently confirming Dennis's suspicions. "Let's just say that there was this girl at school that turned me off," Harry mumbled, before shuddering. 

When he had been visited by the MACUSA, not only was one of their Aurors present, but so was a healer. Said healer had done a thorough exam on him, giving him a copy of the results. That was how he found out just how far Albus Dumbledore had been willing to go in order to control him. Even if he hadn't been under all of those potions and spells, he still wouldn't touch Ginerva Weasley. Something about that girl always left him uneasy and paranoid; and apparently, it was for good reason!

He still didn't know who Ryan Kuhn was. 

Still picking up on the increasing rage, Harry sighed, lowering his head slightly. Why, oh why, was it always him? "Times up, Miss Newman," He said quietly, but firmly. Dennis blinked, before turning his head sharply, only to see a flicker of light as it was being absorbed by the now glowing cube. Huh, he hadn't even noticed that the others had already began the extraction. Harry grimaced as he heard the furious shrieks of Dana Newman, which was followed the sharp scrape of metal against glass. Yeesh, where did a nice girl like her hear such filth? 

A definite must avoid.


End file.
